


are we the bad guys?

by unspeakable3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Family-centric (Harry Potter), Death Eaters, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Good Regulus Black, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), POV Regulus Black, Regulus Black-centric, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, good-ish anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unspeakable3/pseuds/unspeakable3
Summary: Regulus expresses concern about the Dark Lord's choice of insignia.A skull?Really?
Relationships: Regulus Black & Evan Rosier
Comments: 14
Kudos: 76





	are we the bad guys?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicspacehole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicspacehole/gifts).



Regulus shifted his weight from foot to foot and wrapped his thick winter cloak tighter around his shoulders. He exhaled, a puff of dragonsbreath in the bitterly cold night air. His toes were numb, his fingers were numb, his bloody  _ ears  _ were numb. 

All he wanted was to be warm and cosy and tucked up in his bed. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the heavy weight of his velvet eiderdown pressing him into slumber, the comforting warmth of his hot water bottle hugged tightly to his chest, the starlight dancing across his face… Of course, London hadn’t been bathed in proper starlight for generations. Bloody muggles. 

But instead of lying buried beneath a pile of blankets like any sensible pureblood seventeen-year-old ought to be at the witching hour in mid-winter, Regulus was stuck down some shadowy, nondescript offshoot of Knockturn Alley. He wasn’t even needed, really. He hadn’t been called to fight - to his immense relief - but had been told to just wait there, inanely, as back up. 

All because he had been swept up in the juvenile excitement of joining what was essentially an out-of-hours Dark Arts club - a club with only a  _ slightly _ higher mortality rate than Hogwarts’ usual extra-curricular offerings. 

“Wake up. They’re coming.” 

Regulus snapped his eyes open as Evan slipped silently back into position, standing shoulder-to-shoulder to Regulus in the shallow alcove. 

“Let’s see how these Phoenixes cope against the Dark Lord’s finest,” Evan said, grinning. 

His teeth flashed pearly white in the light of the waxing moon; an unsettling, wolfish grin. Regulus hummed in reply and glanced down at his left forearm. His tarnished skin was concealed beneath layers of fabric, but he didn’t need a charmed eye to see what lay beneath; the Dark Mark, still aching from their Lord’s night-time summons. It was a burning ache, a fiery cramp that hurtled down the dark lines etched into his skin, his blood, his very soul. 

“Er, Evan…” he said.

It wasn’t the first time that this uneasy, borderline traitorous thought had flashed through his mind, and he didn’t think it would be the last. But, for whatever reason - perhaps because of the way the planets were aligned, or the fact that he was really bloody cold, actually, and just wanted to go home - he decided to voice it for once. 

“Scared, Reg?” Evan drawled. “Don’t worry. You’ll be home to Mummy soon enough.” 

“I’m not scared,” Regulus lied. He recognised the challenge in his friend’s voice. “It’s just…” He glanced around them, checking needlessly for eavesdroppers. “Evan, I’ve… Well, I’ve realised something.” 

Evan slipped his wand out through a fold in his cloak and cast a one-way transparency charm onto the wall opposite their hiding spot. Through it, Regulus could see bright sparks already flying back and forth between a ragtag bunch of Dumbledore’s vigilantes and a faction of Death Eaters dressed all in black. At the top of Knockturn Alley, tonight’s skirmish had begun.

“Those mudblood mongrels are fucking cowards,” Evan hissed. 

He leant forwards, his hands twitching in time with every multi-coloured flash of light, with every spell cast. Regulus knew that the only thing stopping Evan from tearing up the Alley to join the fray was the threat of punishment upon their return. Not even Evan dared to disobey the Dark Lord’s direct orders. 

“Cowards, yeah…” Regulus replied, watching Evan carefully. “But… well… Have you looked at your Dark Mark recently?” 

Evan turned his gaze away from the fight and gave Regulus an odd look. 

“What?” he said. “Why? Is something wrong with yours?” He grabbed Regulus’s wrist and pushed up his sleeve. “What have you done?” 

“Nothing!” Regulus protested. “I just… Have you  _ looked  _ at it?” He widened his eyes, hoping that Evan might understand what he was trying to say without him having to actually say it. 

“What the fuck are you on about?” 

“It’s a  _ skull _ ,” Regulus whispered, gesturing to the Dark Mark with his spare hand. Its dark, ever-shifting lines stood out starkly against his pale skin in the moonlight. 

“Yeah…” 

“The Dark Mark is a  _ skull _ ,” he said. “A skull with a  _ snake  _ coming out of its mouth.” 

Evan frowned and released Regulus’s wrist, looking very much like he thought Regulus was suffering from some sort of brain-addling curse and ought to be carted off to the Janus Thickey ward. Perhaps he was. 

“Evan…” Regulus whispered. “Are we the bad guys?” 

* * *

The battle continued well into the night. Regulus grew more and more restless, more and more  _ cold _ . It wasn’t supposed to be taking this long; Lucius had said they would be able to floor Dumbledore’s disorganised rebels within minutes. He should be back at home by now, buried beneath a pile of blankets and being fussed over by Kreacher. 

He glanced at Evan. They weren’t supposed to join the fight. They were supposed to be watching, waiting; keeping an eye out for Auror intervention or the even more unwelcome arrival of more Phoenixes. But he could tell that Evan was desperate to join in, his hand itching to test out those obscure and long-forgotten curses that Barty had found hidden away in his father’s study.

Regulus looked down at his arm again. The snake flicked its tongue at him and hissed, swaying its head from side to side. The snake was  _ laughing  _ at him. 

“Why skulls?” he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. 

Evan let out a beleaguered sigh. He rolled his eyes - rather dramatically, Regulus thought - and dropped the back of his head against the cold stone wall. 

“I don’t know,” Evan snapped. “Maybe they’re supposed to be the skulls of all the fucking mudbloods we’ve killed.” 

“Maybe… But don’t you think that still seems a bit, well,  _ morbid _ ?” Regulus said. “It’s not like there’s a label underneath the Mark saying ‘don’t worry, this skull belonged to a mudblood, he definitely deserved it’, is there?” 

Evan frowned at him. Emboldened, Regulus took a step closer and thrust his arm into Evan’s face. 

“What do skulls remind you of?” he insisted. “Death, right? Poison. Dying. Beheading!  _ Death _ , Evan. Death!” 

“We’re  _ Death Eaters _ , Reg.” Evan shoved at Regulus’s shoulders, pushing him away. “Of course there’s going to be some mention of fucking  _ death _ . Grow up, would you?” 

“I know we’re Death Eaters!” Regulus said wildly, throwing his hands up in the air. “And that’s what I mean - I just can’t think of any good reason why someone would choose to name themselves Death Eaters and choose a skull for their insignia!” 

“Alright, calm down. Maybe it symbolises the perfect pureblood skull shape,” Evan suggested, rolling his eyes again. 

“If it was supposed to be the perfect pureblood head then surely it would be better depicted with the skin and eyes and everything still on instead of…  _ this _ ,” Regulus said, gesturing to the Dark Mark. “But Dumbledore’s lot—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Don’t tell me you’ve been reading mudblood propaganda again.” Evan sighed heavily. “Obviously  _ they’re  _ going to think we’re the evil ones.”

“But the mudbloods didn’t design our Dark Marks, did they? And their symbols are all… well. They have joined hands, and lit wands, and phoenixes—”

“What’s so great about a phoenix?” 

Regulus shrugged. “It’s all about rebirth, isn’t it? Hope, or something. You have to admit, it’s better than a skull. I mean…” He tugged his sleeves back down. “I really can’t think of anything worse for a symbol of an organisation trying to convince the general population that we’re not evil than a _skull_. Can you?”

Evan hummed thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the transparent wall. Regulus followed his gaze and saw that, despite the little heaps of crumpled bodies scattered across the floor, two figures on each side were still valiantly fighting each other. 

“What about… Dumbledore’s arsehole?” Evan suggested at last.

“Right,” said Regulus, supremely irritated that Evan wasn’t taking this as seriously as he thought he should be. “And if we were fighting a bunch of rebels marching under the banner of Dumbledore’s  _ arsehole _ , I think I’d be a lot less worried about how this bloody war is going to pan out, Evan!” 

Evan gave a heavy sigh and reached into his pocket for his tobacco tin. He halted, his eyes growing wide, and slowly pulled it out. Both boys looked at the square tin, made from silver, engraved with the symbol of a skull. 

Evan shoved it back into his pocket and gave what Regulus presumed was supposed to be an unconcerned sniff. Regulus watched as his friend tugged his gloves further up his wrists and hesitated again: these, too, had tiny skull motifs embroidered all along the cuff. 

His brow furrowed in concern. Regulus cleared his throat, drawing Evan’s attention, and held open one side of his cloak. Evan blinked. The entire lining, the blackest silk, was covered in a repeated pattern of silver skulls. 

Evan looked away, swallowed, and looked back again.

“Right,” he said, hesitantly. “So… we just…”

He met Regulus’s eyes. Regulus nodded and, in one swift movement, both boys turned on their heels and apparated far, far away from Knockturn Alley, far away from the cheers of jubilation, the excited cry of  _ Morsmordre! _ , and the acid green Dark Mark that mocked them from high up in the night sky. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by (alright, alright, plagiarised from) a wonderful [That Mitchell and Webb Look sketch about Nazi soldiers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hn1VxaMEjRU&t=1s&ab_channel=rootsrockbelgium)
> 
> Praise be to [AFamiliarWitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFamiliarWitch/pseuds/AFamiliarWitch), the Fastest Beta in the West!


End file.
